“It’s the truth,” repeated Carl, doggedly, and not another word would he say. There was nothing to do but to leave him alone; but the strain of putting up with his sullen silence—which he maintained for a full week—wore on Paul’s patience, until more than once he was on the point of declaring his definite intention to put up with it no longer. It was at the end of that week—the last in a warm, summery April—that matters changed suddenly, bringing the first trouble that Paul had yet had to share with his kinsfolk.
One warm Saturday afternoon, when it was May in everything but name, Jane revelling in the last days of the spring vacation proposed a long walk into the country. The twins, Paul, and Elise approved heartily.
“And try to coax Carl out, too, Lisa,” said Aunt Gertrude, who wanted to stay at home to do some mending while she took charge of the shop. “He doesn’t take any exercise at all these days.”
At first Carl growled, and said he wished they’d leave him alone, but just as Elise had given up trying to persuade him, he suddenly changed his mind; though still grumbling as if they were making him do something against his will, joined the jolly little party. But it cannot be said that he was a particularly lively member of it. He looked pale and sulky, walked by himself, and with a moody expression kept his eyes on Jane and Paul as if their high spirits, their perfect camaraderie angered him. And in fact, not the least of his grievances against Paul was Jane’s affection for him; for cold and selfish as Carl might be, he loved Jane in his own way, and in addition, he hated not to be the chief object of interest. Besides, he was feeling half ill again.
“Shall we ask Lily to come with us?” suggested Elise, as they reached the top of Sheridan Lane.
“Let’s ask everyone we meet,” said Jane, “everybody! Nobody ought to stay cooped up indoors to-day. Poor Lily—she’s practising again.”
And in fact Lily’s voice, a little listless and monotonous to-day came sweetly through the quiet air; there did not seem to be much joy in Schubert’s beautiful little spring song as she sang it—“And winking Mary-buds begin, to ope their golden eyes—” she broke off in the middle of the second part.
“Lily!”
A moment later she appeared at the window.
“Come along! You’ve got to come along with us!”